


In bloom

by gatticus



Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatticus/pseuds/gatticus
Summary: The butcher of Stilwater came from humble beginnings, a selection of one shots from the start, to the middle and straight through to the end.
Relationships: Female Boss (Saints Row)/Johnny Gat, Female Boss (Saints Row)/Troy Bradshaw
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. Nights

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much what it says on the tin; a collection of one shots from the boss' beginning's to the end. 
> 
> The order is a little wonky, but I've made sure to elaborate so you can tell when things are set, and who's POV they're from. They're usually Becca's, but you can tell when they aren't.
> 
> That being said, enjoy! And most importantly, thankyou for reading this far, its so appreciated x

Stilwater was never safe at night, everyone knew that. The things that were usually obscured during the day came out under the moonlight, the pimping, the drugs, the shootings.

Not to say they didn’t happen during the day, but it was usually the bolder ones that did, the show offs, the kids who had a point to prove, the try hard’s. The ones that took it seriously didn’t make shows of it, that’s why the Carnales were so dangerous.

Julius walked ahead, occasionally bobbing in and out of streetlights. He had suggested a stakeout, and when Troy agreed he had expected five or so kids to back them up.

It was him and the boss. He didn’t like that.

Still, he knew better than to question. Most of the time that roused suspicion, or just plain resentment, but he still defended it. Better to know more than you need than to run in half-assed.

You can never be too prepared. Though he doubted the rest of the gang shared his sentiments.

“I don’t like this,” He said, finally. 

“When do you?” Julius retorted. “What is it now, son? The street lights too bright for ya?”

Troy almost forgot that Julius could be a smartass. The man carried a respect around on his shoulders, like a glow, and Troy found himself regularly falling for it, despite his best intentions. 

“It’s quiet,” Troy rectified. “Shouldn’t be, ‘specially not here.”

“This ain’t a horror movie boy,” Julius retorted, and Troy almost swore he heard him chuckle. “Keep your wits about ya, you’ll be fine.”

Troy gave a half-assed hum in response, as they walked down the quiet street. He fingered the lighter in his pocket as Julius’ shoes hitting the street echoed around them.

Then they heard it, clear as day.

His feet started moving as soon as they heard the first shot, Julius falling behind him as he sprinted across the tarmac, feet slapping against the ground. The shots grew louder, and more frequent as they skidded across the street.

He saw red. Quite literally, as a red car zipped past them both, spraying bullets inches away from their heads. Both men ducked down, their hands hitting the tarmac.

“Jules,” The nickname came out of his mouth in his haste. “The los carnales are here--we gotta beat it!”

Julius wasn’t listening. He ran ahead, bobbing in and out of streetlights, the sound of his shoes disappearing into the car alarm ringing out. Troy cursed, running after the older man as he turned a corner, and saw the product of the shooting. Or the result, anyway.

The carnales car sat in flames, its occupants dangling over the doors and the wheel. One girl stared at him lifelessly as he ran up to the wreck, her palm tilted up towards him. A kid hung over the wheel, blood caked underneath his fingernails and his face squished against the leather.

He didn’t have time to see further, as two colours swarmed between each other, blue and yellow, crossing in front of vision and making him act. He ran forward, the blue hit the floor first, then the yellow was pointing a gun at something in front of him.

Troy fired his pistol. 

It was clean, as the kid in yellow hit the ground with a harsh slap. He pointed his gun forward, to whoever he had been aiming at, and the moment he saw her, his gun faltered.

He was rarely surprised nowadays. It was always the same old shit, never a blip in the routine, and yet, staring back at him was not a vice king, or one of the los carnales. 

It was a girl. She stared at him, eyes wide like saucers, almost flinching away from the gun he realised he hadn’t quite lowered yet. Mousey brown hair settled on her shoulders, her tank top smeared with blood that he wasn’t quite sure who it belonged to.

“You okay, playa?” Julius asked.

That wasn’t at the forefront of his attention. The burning car was. He picked his eyes off the girl in front of them, and back to the fire licking the red paint.

“Julius,” He urged, trying not to panic. “We gotta move.”

Julius hoisted her up, a single arm draped over her shoulder, and walked her forwards, whilst Troy kept his gun aimed, a precautionary measure. He wasn’t going to sprung upon by some kid testing their luck.

He felt the heat licking his back before the car blew, and when it did, he lost his footing, tripping over the curb with the force of the explosion--out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl hit the deck, Julius not far behind.

The old man saved himself, bracing himself up onto his feet, but the girl just jerked back, now sat underneath them, her back pressed against the wall.

She didn’t look any calmer. Though he supposed that was a given. He tried to maintain his gaze on the street, his trigger finger twitching, but felt his eyes stray back to the terrified woman in front of him. 

“There, that don’t look so bad,” Julius had changed his tone. He sounded like he was talking to a stray puppy. “That’s Troy, you can thank him later.”

Why they were doing introductions and not getting the hell out of there, Troy didn’t know. This was loud enough to peak any cops attention, and that of the elderly do-gooders. It was better that they made themselves scarce.

Julius appeared not to get that memo. The girl looked at him, her eyes now less wide than before, but she said nothing. He felt his lip twitch, left a considerable silence before he responded way too late, and way too simple. 

“Hey.”

She said nothing again, glancing up at him.

“The row ain’t safe no more hon,” Julius said, eyes severe, tone back to the one that commanded respect. “We got gangs fighting over shit that ain’t theirs, and you in the way. They don’t care if you’re representin’ or not.”

Troy couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. This was the beginning of his recruitment pitch, one that he saved for the brawly kids that walked around putting on a show, the kids that peddled weed out of their moms yard. She was a woman that had not muttered a single word, more on the skinny side that brawn, and who flinched everytime Julius spoke.

“Julius,” He snapped, irritated. “This is ain’t the time to recruit.”

“We need all the help we can get, son.”

“No,” He argued. “We need to get the hell outta here!”

“In a minute!”

Troy bit the urge to roll his eyes. Julius could be a stubborn bastard, a trait that didn’t fit in well with the intelligence Troy knew he held.

“Look, the rows got a problem,” Julius said, almost gently. “Come to the row if you wanna be a part of the solution.”

The girl still stared at him, as Julius got up to his feet, finally departing after his recruitment speech. She still watched him, now more cautiously than fearful, as the older man turned, and Troy followed suit.

He had barely made it two steps when he heard feet slap against the tarmac. He turned on the spot, letting Julius walk ahead, and barely saw her. 

She was sprinting away, quite literally. The only thing he could see aside from her hair was the soles of her trainers, as she ran into the distance, and he wondered mutely, if he would ever see her again.


	2. Reclamation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skipping forward a little bit here, but not too much. Essentially the 'Reclamation' mission from sr1. 
> 
> I'm not gonna get any awards for realism here, but stick with me!

Why Becca had been summoned alone, she didn’t know. She had been told to wait for Julius and Troy outside the church, with no other instructions.

She pulled down her purple tank top (and purple had never been her colour, but she supposed she just had to roll with that) awkwardly clearing her throat. Everyone that saw her in the courtyard pretty much ignored her, which wasn’t surprising considering she had bitten a few of them in the canonisation.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Troy’s voice made her head snap up from her phone, slotting it into the back pocket of her jeans. If him being here didn’t make her nervous enough, Julius followed him.  
  
She swallowed, and tried not to look afraid. “Hey.”  
  
“I got a tip there’s a turf war goin’ on right now,” Troy explained, in-between lighting a cigarette. “If we crash their party we can take out all those sons of bitches at once.”  
  
She watched his throat bob as he took a toke out of it, his lips pursing to light it. Then she swiftly reminded herself where the fuck she was.  
  
“Sweet."  
  
Troy led them to his car, and she took the backseat without even asking. It was neat, a takeaway coffee cup in the holder, and a notebook on the back seat, but nothing too messy. A person’s car said a lot about them, she wasn’t surprised that his was that way.  
  
She didn’t say anything as the car started, wiping her sweating palms on her jeans...Hopefully they didn’t notice.  
  
“I’m not gonna lie to you,” Troy said, adjusting the rear view mirror so he could look at her. “This is gonna be rough. Don’t walk in all macho, shit gets too hot, you leave it to me and Julius.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
"You don’t talk much, do you?”  
  
Becca snorted. He had _no_ idea. She talked constantly, but she didn’t _know_ him and she had just joined a street gang in a random city that she had only lived in for two weeks. Strike her not in the talking mood.  
  
“You sure it’s good we take her?” Troy asked Julius. “We could’a took Johnny.”  
  
“You worry too much,” Julius replied, looking out of the window. “She’ll be fine.”  
  
There was no point trying to interrupt. She focused on the gun in her lap, drumming her thighs with her fingers and trying to cling onto the surging adrenaline.  
  
Troy was starting to brake. This was it, then. The second they saw purple, they fired. She couldn’t pick out the colours as she dove at a storage crate, back pressed against the cold metal.   
  
If she fucked up, she was dead. If they fucked up, she was dead. And even if she didn’t, all the other gang members would be dead.  
  
 _This is necessary, they’re in our city._ She almost laughed at herself as bullets pinged off the metal. This wasn’t anything close to _her_ city.  
  
But it could be.  
  
She swallowed thickly, ducking out of cover when the bullets stopped. She fired without thinking, a wayward bullet striking down an unlucky man in blue, his back hitting the ground with a thud.  
  
A surge of adrenaline pushed through her veins, and she only had tunnel vision, her ears plugged like she was underwater. She pushed out of cover, sprinting across the tarmac, feet slapping across the floor to crash against a brick wall.  
  
She couldn’t see Troy or Julius. She was on her own, but she didn’t need them--  
  
 _Yes you do.  
  
_ “No,” She grunted audibly, rising to her feet to fire a round into a yellow clad woman. She hit the ground, blood pooling out of her eyes. “I don’t.”  
  
It startled her how easily she was getting used to it. She rifled through the pockets of the dead woman, trying to avoid looking at the shocking scarlet eyes. A bit of cash, a couple of bullets, and--  
  
“Nice.”   
  
The NR4 settled into her palm as she grinned, feeling a wave crash over her. The closest feeling she could relate to it was excitement, the hairs on her arm standing on end.   
  
Bullets pinged overhead, as she ducked to the floor, shaking hands propping her up behind a barrell. They thudded into the wood in rapid succession, and she had to get them back before the bullet went into her spine instead.

They stopped. Reload.

Not for her. She popped around the corner, brown hair grazing her arm as she fired a shot into the chest of the roller next to her. He recoiled, eyes wide, glancing down to the bloom of red across his chest, and she didn’t wait for it, raised her arm, and shot once, in the head.

He sagged backwards, but she didn’t watch him fall. She only straightened warily, gun pointed at all corners of the courtyard.

Bodies littered it, more than a couple of the kills belonging to her, as she felt her stomach start to spin. The adrenaline threatened to wear off when she heard footsteps running behind her.

She spun, gun aimed, then it sagged.  
  
“Where the _fuck_ have you been!” She demanded, not caring particularly about being shy for the time being.   
  
Troy blinked, but didn’t have time to reply as a bullet hit the wall behind them. They both hit the deck, shoulders touching behind the already chipped barrel.  
  
“You put a dent in ‘em,” Troy breathed, his chest rising. “Came back and half of ‘em were dead.”  
  
She rose onto her knees, surveying the courtyard as he remained seated. She knew they were out there, _somewhere.  
  
_ “Yeah well, I didn’t have a choice,” She retorted, eyes narrowed as she saw a huddled blue top in the corner. “Them or me."  
  
They were cowering, hiding behind a car. The girl couldn’t have been older than her, and she felt a small pang of sympathy for her. That was her, a week ago. Hell, that was her now--she didn’t want to--

\--The girl slumped forward, blood trickling from her nose as the bullet passed through her head. Becca’s eyes snapped to Troy, his gun was still smoking as he got to his feet. 

“She was _hiding_.”

“It’s them, or us,” he repeated her earlier words, cool as a cucumber. “C’mon, there’s gotta be more.”

She didn’t want to follow him--but as soon as the bullets started, she didn’t have a choice. They both ran forward, her heart thudding into her ears as she turned the corner, sailing past Troy.

The bullets were sprayed everywhere, and she had a second to fire as many shots as she could. Troy joined her, face set as he fired over, and over and over and over, then Julius, until it was just the three of them standing.

It felt like it lasted forever, as she blinked and saw all the corpses lining the floor. Red, yellow, blue, a singular purple shirt amongst the rest. Some had their eyes open, some looked like they were sleeping if you ignored the blood from their nose. Some were unrecognizable.

Sirens started to wail.

“The cops are here!” Troy said. “Fuck, we gotta lose ‘em!”

Julius ran for the nearest car he could find--a red carnales car that was riddled with bullets, and dove into the drivers seat. She crashed into the passengers, and Troy the backseat. If she wasn’t about to get shot, she would have felt smug.

She had never seen such bad driving in her life;

Julius jerked the wheel to the left, almost sending her through the car window. Her eyes were stuck to the mirrors as they showed a cop car on pursuit. He was swerving everywhere, and the unrational side of her knew that there was a risky solution, but if she pulled it off….

She bit her lip, and made her choice. 

The gun was heavy in her hand as she leant out of the car window, taking aim, gun pointed at the windscreen of the cop car.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

She fired, watching the cop behind them jerk, a red indent in his head, his hands slacking off the wheel. The car jerked to the left side of the road, and kept going, driving off the side of the bridge and into the river, water splashing over the banks.

Becca blew air out from her cheeks as she slotted herself back into the car. She could feel the eyes of both men on her, and felt her lip twitch with how badly she wanted to grin.

“Damn,” Julius said, and she might have been dreaming, but it sounded like he was going to laugh. “I think a lot of people are gonna be proved wrong about you.”

“Maybe it’ll make the hep I’ve got from biting those guys worth it,” She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe not.”

“Christ,” Troy groaned from the back, but she heard the beginning of a laugh there. “Alright, first thing we’re doin’ is teaching you how to drive.”

Julius didn’t say anything for a moment. “...You can’t drive?”

She groaned.

Troy laughed.


	3. Kidnap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long time no update!
> 
> I enjoy doing the partly goofy missions of sr1 before I get to the harder stuff. This is mainly just a way to write Becca and Johnny's first interaction, but it's also just a little bit of a ride, nothing too serious.

They were starting with the vice kings first. She knew what very little Troy had told her about them, and this ‘meeting’ with Johnny wasn’t looking good.

Mainly because he had actively encouraged her beating of a canonisation, and seemed particularly blood thirsty to watch it too. He scared her.

When she pushed the door open to the office, Johnny was already sat down, his feet propped up on the table, arms behind his head. He looked her up and down.

“Take a seat.”

The chair was kicked out in front of her. She didn’t trust it, as she sat down, watching him warily.

“So you’re Julius’ new girl, huh?” He asked, eyebrow raised. “You don’t look like much. Then again, I don’t look like I have an eight inch cock, so I guess we’re both full of surprises.”

The shock must have shown on her face. She blinked at him, felt her lips spread with a laugh that she tried to contain. She couldn’t tell whether he was flirting with her, or trying to make her laugh, or maybe he was just trying to be a dick.

His lip twitched as he leant away from her. “The Vice King’s are named after one guy, Benjamin King. That shit don’t happen unless you’re a professional, or a bad ass, and in King’s case, he’s both.”

“Sounds like you admire him.”

“Yeah, guess it does,” Johnny nodded, clicking his tongue. “Don’t mean I’m not gonna put him down though.”

She somehow doubted that. She would put Johnny at the same age as her if she had to guess, and from Julius’ comments earlier, he had been assigned a babysitter too.

That must have dented his ego.

Johnny opened his mouth again, but was interrupted by a sharp ringing. His hand slotted into his pocket, and maybe she was seeing things, but she could have sworn his lip turned up a hair.

“Hold up, I gotta take this,” He pressed the phone to his ear, grinning. “Aisha, what a pleasant fuckin’ surprise--whoa, slow down,” He winced, holding the phone away from his ear. “Yeah, that’s not slower, that’s louder--what? Where’s she headed?”

She was having a headache following the conversation as she saw her counterparts eyes widen behind his glasses. He terminated the call, then his eyes were on her again.

She caught his expression darken, and felt goosebumps rise over her arms. They were dark as a small smile curled over his lips, making them draw back over his teeth. 

“You up for a job?”

It was embarrassing how fast she responded. “Yes.”

“Eager?”

“What’s the job?” She chose to ignore his comment, but felt her cheeks reddening anyway. “Vice Kings?”

“Some fucker’s gone and grabbed Aisha’s sister straight off the street,” He explained, glancing back to his phone. “I think it’s King, getting girls for his racket, grabbin’ ‘em straight off the curb.”

“But I thought you said King--”

“Might be Tanya, maybe she’s going behind his back, don’t know, don’t fuckin’ care,” He snapped, making her mouth clamp shut in response. “They’re in a yellow sedan, you tail ‘em, and get those girls back.”

“Tail?”

Johnny stared at her. She felt her chest tighten.

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

“I just uh--I can’t drive.”

Any embarrassment she felt earlier was amplified by a thousand as his eyebrows furrowed. He almost glared at her as she felt her toes curl in her trainers.

“Then get the fuckin’ bus,” He snapped. “I don’t care, just make sure you find those girls.”

She was sure she heard him muttering to himself as she kicked the chair out from underneath her, barrelling through the arch. Her feet carried her over the stone and out of the heavy wooden doors, down the steps, and through the gravestones.

She was going to have to use some initiative here. She swallowed thickly as she saw it, the yellow sedan tearing past the church. 

A litany of curses fell out of her mouth as she ran down the street, trying to think of any plausible solution to this that didn’t end with Johnny’s foot on her neck.

An elderly woman was getting into her parked car, and the idea was plain stupid but her feet were moving and her gun was out just as the woman put her walker in the back seat.

She opened the door, slotting herself in the passenger seat, gun pointed between wrinkled brows.

“You gotta follow that car,” She instructed, hand shaking a little. “Drive me there.”

The old womans hands shot up next to her ears as her lips fell open, eyeglasses almost falling off the bridge off her nose.

“Please don’t kill me!”

“Oh for--” Becca sighed, eyes snapping to the car stopped at the traffic lights. “I’m not gonna kill you if you tail that car, capiche?”

“Capiche?”

“Just fucking drive!”

The accelerator was pressed as she maintained her aim on the old womans temple, finally following the sedan that had strangely been following the rules of the road so far. The old woman was watching her out of the corner of her eye.

“Sorry about this,” Becca said. “What’s your name?”

“Betty.”

“Thanks Betty,” She replied, aim wavering a little. “You’re doing me a massive favour here.”

“I don’t exactly have a choice.”

She had a point. Becca chewed her lip in thought as she flicked the safety off. “Suppose not.”

That must have motivated the older woman, as she sped up, turning the corner to follow the sedan. It sharply turned to the right as Betty followed it, stopping in front of an old warehouse. 

“Can I go?”

Becca shushed her, watching a man in yellow leave with the woman she assumed was Aisha’s sister. He frogmarched her into the building, eyes flicking across the street, but not seeing the two women.

“Please?”

“Shut up!” 

The reply was meek; “Okay.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you Betty,” She lowered the gun, kicking the car door open with her trainer. “Sorry for uh--threatening your life.”

“It’s fine.”

She was very polite, considering the circumstances.

“Could you do me a favour?”

Betty looked at her, silently.

“Could you wait here? I got some friends that need a ride back, I won’t be long.”

She again, said nothing.

“Okay. Cool.”

Feeling a little awkward, Becca, cleared her throat, hoping there was no little resistance in the warehouse.

-

Sat in Betty’s car, covered in blood, and with five women piled on top of each other in the back, Becca realised some things.

“Thanks for this,” She coughed, adjusting her sore arm. “Appreciate it.”

Betty’s hands were tight around the wheel, so hard that her hands were white. “It’s fine.”

“Are you guys okay back there?” She glanced to the rearview mirror, adjusting it slightly so the terrified women were looking back at her.

There were a few um’s and ah’s as they all nodded quietly, and she felt bad for having them sat essentially on each others knees, but at least they had a ride.

“We’re gonna take you back to the church and then you guys can go home,” She said, speaking into the rearview mirror. “Are you Aisha’s sister?”

The girl with the purple top with Aisha’s face on it unsurprisingly spoke up. “Yeah.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sonya.”

“Okay Sonya,” She cleared her throat. “Johnny’s waiting for you at the church, I’ll take you to him. Won’t be long, Betty’s a good driver.”

Betty said nothing, which wasn’t exactly a surprise.

This was going to be a very long ride.


	4. Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long time no upload! Basically Troy teaching Becca how to drive--again, no points for realism I'm sure.

“Okay, so turn the key.”

This was Troy’s car. He was putting the entirety of his faith in her, and she wasn’t sure that was the best way to go.

She eyed up the key sitting in front of her. The open window made it sway a little, as it sat in the ignition, waiting for her to grab them.

“Becca?”

She blinked at him. She was nervous, he was giving up his free time to be there, literally.

“Yeah, sorry,” She coughed, acutely aware of her heart beating behind her ribcage. “Okay.”

The key turned, the engine hummed slowly underneath their feet. A car zipped ahead over the freeway. It was all too quiet.

“Now put your foot on the clutch,” He instructed, as she did so. “Slowly. Then move into first.”

She pulled the gear stick. It remained locked into place. She tried it again.

“Press it down.”

She did so, and felt it begrudgingly move into first.

“Then put your foot down on the accelerator.”

His eyes were boring into her. At least in the church she could pretend she was doing something, looking at a rock, picking at her nails, listening to a song. Here, underneath a flickering street light, his aftershave was more potent than ever and the only thing she could do was what he told her to.

“Now lift your foot off the clu--”

She did, and was rewarded with the noise of the engine cutting out entirely as it jerked forwards. 

“Shit,” she groaned. Her head hung loosely by the wheel as she curled her fingers around the leather. “Sorry.”

“It happens,” he didn’t sound angry, at least. “I’d be surprised if you got it first time. Alright, foot off the clutch, can the accelerator.”

“Now what?”

“Do it all again, so turn the—“

She was already ahead of him, leaning into his space to turn the key as the engine vibrated underfoot. She pressed her left foot down, acutely aware he was watching as her hand crossed over to the gearstick.

“1st, right?”

“Uhuh.”

Her foot went down on the accelerator, and she slowly pulled her foot off the clutch.

“Now take the handbrake off.”

She did so, and to her delight, the car started to roll forward. She felt a beam stretch across her lips, and in the midst of it all, her foot moved, and the car jerked.

If he was frustrated, he didn’t show it.

-

She suppressed a yawn behind her hand. It had been hours, and even if he was a night owl, she was not.

“You think you can drive us to a freckle bitches?” He asked, yawning behind his hand. “I gotta craving.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in me here.”

“You learnt from the best,” he reasoned. “Back into first.”

She would have rolled her eyes if she wasn’t trying to concentrate. 

Frankly, she was still trying to figure him out. He was sarcastic, that was obvious, partial to a joke if he was in the right mood, older than the rest, but younger than he made out he was. She was inherently curious, and he was doing very little to inform her. 

“Alright, alright,” she tutted. “You heard of being humble?”

“Heh, I’m the king of humble, just gotta make sure my head doesn’t get any bigger.”

“Har har.”

“We there yet?”

She tried not to smile when she rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help it, trying to temper it into a frown. It didn’t work.

“Working on it,” she responded, ‘accidentally’ running a red light. “I think that’s a solid five seconds I’ve managed without stalling.”

“That’s a new record for you.”

“I know!” She retorted, unable to stop the smirk. “Give me a medal.”

“Frame it?”

“Definitely.” 

She snorted, abruptly jerking the wheel, and she could have sworn that he shrunk into himself as the car accidentally clipped a lamppost. 

“You look like you’re gonna cry,” she snorted. “Do all gangbangers abide by the rules of the road?”

“The only road rule we got is don’t kill yourself,” he retorted, a little snippier than earlier. “You don’t seem to be listenin’ to that one.”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “As long as we get to our destination, which, we have.”

She jerked the wheel too far, so suddenly that the car jolted to a stop in the freckle bitches lot. She tried to pretend she didn’t hear the loud exaggerated and very audible sigh from next to her as she started the engine again, rolling them towards the order point.

“What do you want?” She asked him.

“The fist and the big swallow,” he replied, almost instantly.

She blinked at him. “The what?”

The confusion was evident in his face. “You’ve never been to freckle bitches before? It’s all like that. You got the twins, the big swallow, even had the bukakke for a while ‘till they scrapped it.”

“...you’re kidding.”

His serious face broke into a laugh. “Yeah. You gonna order?”

She blinked at him dumbly before the tinny voice from the speaker broke her out of it. 

“Welcome to freckle bitches—“

“Can I have—uh, two fists and two big swallows, please.”

Steelport didn’t have this kind of shit, they didn’t even have a fried chicken joint. Troy was making out as if it was sacrilege to not know the dubious product names.

Still, he didn’t need to know about Steelport yet. None of them did. She would just pretend she didn’t get out much and not that she was from a different city entirely.

“Come round to the window and we’ll have it ready for you.”

“Thanks,” she very roughly jerked the wheel to the left, sending the car down past the order window. “I guess these are on me, huh?”

He said nothing.

“You’re a real cheap date Troy,” maybe that was a bit far, but she was nothing if not a trier. “Fine, the big swallows are on me.”

“Jesus,” he sighed, but his lip was turned up a hair as he pinched his nose. He must have known what she was doing. “Guess so.”


	5. To Kingdom Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm hoping to make these chapters a bit longer after this since they're so short. This is pretty much what it says on the tin, the 'faking Aisha's death' mission.

When they said she was a rookie, she was expecting the rookie shit. Everyone she had spoken to had said the most they had done was drive a couple of drug runners around the suburbs, and yet, she was being summoned to Johnny’s office; again. 

“I wish Johnny would call me to his office,” Cara mused, perched next to her on the stone wall. “Dex keeps sending me to bump off old veterans at the bingo club.”

Cara was a particularly enthusiastic member with a gap in her teeth and bleached blonde hair. Her bangs were clinging on for dear life every time there was a gush of wind. Still, she was pleasant company, and was thrown in the deep end just like Becca was.

“Why?” She asked, but couldn’t help her lip upturning. “He wants their winnings?”

“Apparently they used to run with the Carnales in the seventies,” Cara shrugged. “Does it matter? They’re using their earnings on discount beer, they’re not harming anyone.”

Usually, most people agreed with the lieutenants. She had learned the hard way not to question them from her and Johnny’s first meeting, to hear different was refreshing, if a little stupid on Cara’s part.

“You don’t agree?” 

“It’s not that I don’t agree,” Cara shrugged, swinging her legs in time with Becca. “Just that they keep beggin’ for their life with their walkers in front of ‘em. One guy was in a fuckin’ chair and trying to backhand me, it was embarrassing.”

“Fuck off,” Becca snorted. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Cara’s face twisted as she sucked the air between her teeth, a trait Becca found mildly irritating. “I felt sorry for them.”

“I guess.” 

What could she say except that? She had killed her first person three weeks ago, and still wasn’t sure where she stood on it.

“Oop,” Cara nudged her shoulder. “He’s got a face like a slapped ass as usual. Think he’s about to piss Johnny off?”

She followed Cara’s eyes to see Troy skulking into the side door, his hands stuffed deep into his pocket and minus his trademark cigarette. She burnt holes into the back of his head with her eyes, her feet stopping their swing next to Cara’s.

“Hello?”

She blinked, turning to the older woman next to her. “Probably.” It was a weak reply, but considering she was also running late to see Johnny, she had other things on her mind. “Anyway--I’ll catch you later, I think I’m late.”

“Lucky bitch!”

It was called behind her as she snorted into her sleeve. Cara didn’t even try to hide her infatuation with Johnny, who, considering his earlier conversation, was just as emotionally unavailable as he was physically, considering all the gossip about his supposed girlfriend.

She still had a beam on her face as she followed through the side door, curling through the stone to enter Johnny’s office.

“You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

Becca cringed. It didn’t take an idiot to realise that she had stepped foot into a domestic. There was a woman in front of her, braids down to her hips and a short skirt, stomping over to where Johnny sat, nonchalant, hands tucked behind his head.

“Not all of us have a couple million dollars to make changes--”

“It’s always the same shit with you!”

“Oh here we go again!”

She swallowed, then tried, and failed, to step backwards. Maybe if she came back later she wouldn’t have to--

“Get your fuckin’ ass back in here,” Johnny growled. “I’m not done with you.”

Goosebumps ran up her arms as she froze, staring at him. Johnny was glaring at her over his glasses, but the woman didn’t even turn around. She didn’t even seem to realise Becca was in the room. 

“What did you want me to do?” The woman snapped. “Did you expect me not to take my shot?”

Johnny’s eyes dropped off her, and back to the woman in front; “No, I expected you to remember where you came from.”

“Oh fuck you Johnny!”

Anyone else who spoke to Johnny Gat like that would have been pumped full of bullet holes. She gaped at her back, staring at her, with a quiet sense of admiration as Johnny too got up to his feet;

“Fuck me?” He questioned, eyes hard. “Fuck you! You’re the one that ran off to be famous. The only time you remember who we are is when you want something!”

“My sister was kidnapped.”

“And I brought her back, didn’t I?”

“No,” She snapped, turning around and pointing a solitary finger at Becca. “She did.”

The woman, whoever she was, though she realised now that it was probably the same Aisha on the phone, was beautiful. Becca gawped at her as she quickly ran her eyes over Aisha’s, over brown piercing eyes and full lips, and suddenly felt extremely small.

“Bullshit, I told her to do it!” Johnny pointed at her, then paused. “No offense.”

Becca shrugged, still feeling incredibly uncomfortable. “None taken.”

“Look, if you’re gonna help me, help me. But don’t you dare try to hold it over me.” 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

Just like that, it was over. They both took a seat, turning to her as if she was the one being stupid for standing there. Johnny waved her over with a finger as she uncertainly grabbed a chair.

“Relax B,” He said. “I’d like you to meet Saint’s Row’s claim to fame. This is Aisha. And tonight, we’re gonna kill her.”

There were many things to unpack there as she blinked at him in her chair. The nickname, for a start, the end goal for Aisha, his and Aisha’s relationship. The look on her face must have shown her confusion as Aisha rolled her eyes.

“He’s being melodramatic,” Aisha said. “See, I’m signed with Kingdom Come Records.”

“And it’s no secret they’re owned by the vice kings.”

She caught the malice, the way his eye twitched as he glared at Aisha across the table. It made her shiver, and she had never felt so glad that it wasn’t aimed at her.

“But the real deal is once you’re in, you can’t get out,” Aisha explained, eyes wide. “They rip you off left and right and extort you to stay signed. I’ve talked to Johnny and he said you might be willing to help me.”

“Me?” She found herself saying before she could stop it. “Why?”

Johnny snorted. “You didn’t accidentally kill any of the girls ‘napped by the vice kings--thought you could probably handle another job.”

She swallowed.

“That is--if you wanna do it,” Johnny’s voice suggested it was not a question. “Could always tell Julius you’re not liste--”

“I never said I wouldn’t,” She snapped, then realised how much of a bad idea that was as Johnny glowered at her. She couldn’t even look at him. “What do I have to do?”

Johnny didn’t say anything for a moment. She kept her eye on Aisha. “Eesh has a recording session in a few minutes--that’s when we make her disappear and give the Vice King’s a nice ‘fuck you’ whilst we’re at it. I want you to take Aisha to her session, but on the way, stop at the chop shop and get your ride loaded up with some C4,” he explained, as if it were easy. “Park the car at the studio and get the hell outta there, Eesh, make sure someone sees you before you jump out.”

Aisha sighed softly. “Johnny--I really appreciate--”

“Whatever,” He interrupted, with a wave of his hand. “I was gonna blow that place up anyway. Now, B, go to the shop and ask for Sampson, one of my boy’s told him about our arrangement, he’ll know what to do.”

Becca nodded again. In truth, it would be a miracle if she got them there in one piece. Troy’s driving lessons meant she was able to drive from point A to point B, but little else--never mind with explosives strapped to it.

“We’re taking my car,” Aisha told her from behind her, following her out into the courtyard. “It makes more sense than yours.”

Truth be told, Becca wasn’t going to offer up her stolen car anyway, but she nodded, and pretended that this information was a shock to her as she slid into the drivers seat of Aisha’s shiny purple, expensive car.

“So,” Aisha started. “Are you new? I don’t remember you hanging ‘round the row.”

Aisha had a very soft, and gentle voice when she wasn’t yelling at Johnny. Becca smiled to herself as he pulled out onto the street. “You could say that,” She replied. “I might need directions, I’m not really familiar.”

She didn’t need to see Aisha to hear the shock in her voice. “You’re not from Stilwater?”

“I am,” Becca lied quickly. “I just don’t get out much.”

“Like a hermit?” Aisha chuckled softly. “That’s gonna be my life soon, you could teach me some tricks.”

“I’d love to.” She glanced over at Aisha, who was watching her intently, and swallowed thickly. She didn’t mean for it to be as weighty as it was—she had only just met her—and she was dating Johnny Gat. Flirting with her was an incredibly bad idea, yet her mouth kept moving. “I don’t think you’ve got the finesse yet, you’d have to get rid of the skirt, for a start.”

Aisha blinked, but a smile was starting to spread over her face. “And why’s that?”

“Hermit rules, can’t go in isolation with legs like that,” she clicked her teeth as she turned a little too roughly. “Makes the other hermits jealous.”

She was chatting absolute shit, but Aisha was smiling anyway. “I thought hermits lived alone?”

“We have hermit meet-ups every couple of years,” Becca shrugged. “You’ll have to get used to sweatpants.”

“Looks like these hermits are easily distracted,” Aisha hummed. “I suppose they’ve got nothin’ else to do.”

Becca snorted, pulling them up to Sampsons shop, still not sure why the other woman hadn’t told her to shut up, and feeling thrilled at the danger of it all. If Johnny found her talking to Aisha like this—hermit or no, she would probably be missing a hand.

“Alright,” Becca sighed softly through her nose. “Driving around with C4 when I can’t really drive doesn’t seem like the best—“

“You can’t drive?”

Aisha was staring at her as if she had just told her she was satan incarnate. Becca blinked, sure that Johnny would have informed his girlfriend of this before putting her in the car, but apparently not. 

Becca shook her head, watching as Aisha almost shrunk into the window. “I’m gonna die.”

“Thanks for the vote of faith,” Becca grumbled as they pulled up to the window. “It’ll be fine, as long as we stick to the rules of the road.”

Aisha didn’t say anything as Becca rolled the window down, approaching who she assumed was Sampson. “Hey, I’m here for Johnny’s delivery,” she said. “He said you’d be expecting me.”

“Are you new? I don’t remember you.”

“Yeah,” Becca replied, shortly. “Do you have it or not?”

Sampson’s eyebrow rose a hair. “Alright, alright, chill girl, I got it right here.”

He disappeared into the back, and she hoped to god that Johnny could trust his contacts. This mission was going to end messily if not. Sure enough, he came back with what she assumed was the C4, as she became aware that the entirety of this was all just guesswork. He could have been strapping anything to her car and she would be none the wiser.

“Are you nervous?” Becca asked, trying to fill the silence. “Not about the bombs just—about faking your death and stuff.”

Aisha gave a small smile, comforted by Beccas vague attempt to start a conversation. She nodded once; “Only my sister and you guys know. It’s gonna be weird, I’m basically just turning my back on my life.”

“Was it really that bad?”

Aisha nodded again. “It’s awful. They treat you like shit, there’s no escape. I know this sounds drastic but I’ve worn out all my other options.”

Becca didn’t know what to say to that, so she simply nodded, as the loud smack underneath the car suggested Sampson was done. 

“Alright, you haven’t got a lot of time, so I’d hurry if I were you,” Sampson said. “And that shit in your car isn’t exactly stable so...don’t go crashing into stop signs, okay?”

Becca swallowed. This was real. She was doing this. “How long have I got?”

“About five minutes?”

She paled. She knew vaguely where the record label was and she would get there in ten if she was careful. This was near enough impossible. With shaking hands she pulled into reverse, foot hard on the pedal as she pulled out of the shop and onto the gravel. She jerked the wheel hard, as the car almost whacked into the petrol tank near them.

“Careful!” 

“Shut up!”

In any other situation she would have apologised, but now her only goal was to actually make it out alive. She slammed her foot down on the accelerator as the rattling noise told her that she was in the wrong gear.

“Sorry,” she said through gritted teeth. “This isn’t ideal.”

“It’s fine—just concentrate.”

Her palms were sweating as she swerved around a car at a stop sign, crashing over the train tracks and cutting over the sign that told everyone to stop. Aisha was watching the train sail by that they had just avoided as Becca jerked the wheel, her heart in her throat.

“Fuckin’ C4, fucking asshole!” Becca ranted, damned if Aisha told him. “What kind of shitty plan is this?!”

She was just blabbering now, as she ran another red light, fingers clenched tight around the wheel. She had about a minute, give or take, as she saw the building come into view. She jerked the wheel again, pulling into the parking lot as she stalled the engine. “Okay, you’ve got thirty seconds, go!”

Aisha barrelled out of the doors the same time Becca did, running into the building the same time that Becca ran away. Her feet slammed against concrete as she ran into the road, past blaring cars and trucks as she crossed over to the other side, not even having a destination, just trying to put distance between her and the car. She kept running, through alleys and over dumpsters as she shoved people out of the way. Women dropped their briefcases as she shoved them onto the sidewalk, toes curling into her sneakers.

It wasn’t like a gunshot--she didn’t even know how to describe it. The floor shook like an earthquake as she whipped around to catch the flash of light in the distance, smoke pouring out like rain onto the sidewalk. Alarms started to sound from cars and people started to scream as she tried to steady herself, unblinking at the building in the distance that had stood tall not even a few seconds ago.

Her hand went to her pocket, retrieving the cheap flip phone. She couldn’t even tear her eyes away from the rubble as she dialled the number, stood stationary in a sea of screaming men and women.

“Move!” A woman shrieked, sprinting past her. “Run!”

Becca ignored her, holding the phone up to her ear. It would be a miracle if he even heard her with the sounds around her. 

“Yo.”

“Hey,” She greeted, starting to walk through the screaming crowd. “It’s done. Do you need me to come back?”

“Yeah, actually, I’ve got a pretty big favor to ask. I’ll tell you when you get back.”

She didn’t like the sound of that, but what else was she supposed to say? “‘Kay, I’m like, ten minutes away, see you soon.”

She terminated the call before he could make another wisecrack. The pandemonium in the city had not decreased by any means as she strolled past a crying child on the sidewalk. She squatted down to pocket a dollar bill that had been dropped by a wailing business man, slipping the bill into her pocket, and noting, if anything, it was rather entertaining to watch blue collar suits sprinting for their lives when they weren’t in any danger in the first place.

The church started to loom larger as she got closer, instantly feeling a wave of anxiety crash over her, no matter how much she tried to act the contrary. She stuffed her hands into her capris, fingering the bill that she had slipped in there five minutes prior.

People were still viewing her with curiosity--those she hadn’t met anyway. Cara waved, her friend, an older man by the name of Leon, waved too. Still, having a gaggle of friends didn’t eradicate the anxiety of getting stared down by a skinhead.

She would just have to fake it. It’s what she had been doing so far. She willed fake confidence to exude from her as she crossed over the courtyard, keeping an eye out for anyone of interest. Skipping steps to get up to the doors, she curled around the wall, heading straight for Johnny’s office and hoping that was it.

He was sitting exactly the same way she had left him, legs crossed over one another on the desk, arms crossed behind his head. It almost seemed as if he was just waiting for her like that, looking at her over his glasses.

“If it ain’t my little pyromaniac,” He was looking at her like she was his next meal. “Take a seat, B.”

She had no qualms with the nickname, if anything, it put her in better stead as she sat directly in front of his crossed over feet, trying not to get booted in the face. “What was the favor?”

“Straight to business?” He almost seemed disappointed. “Here I was hopin’ for a nice round up of todays events.”

She looked at him, deadpan, and saw his smirk split wider. “What do you want me to say, man? I parked the car, Aisha ran one way, I ran the other, it blew up. Exactly what you wanted.”

“Exactly,” He repeated. “So I’m hopin’ you’ll do exactly what I want this time, too.”

“I’m flattered, but we’ve only known each other five minutes.”

Where the hell that came from, she didn’t know, but his eyes seemed to light up. She balled her fists into her lap and prayed to god she wasn’t going to get a back hander across the table.

“Damn, shot down,” He clucked his teeth. “I’ll get you eventually.” She almost balked at that, but didn’t have time to reply. “What I want, is actually a weird request, so y’know, it’s not official saints business or anythin’.”

“Right…”

He coughed, and for the first time since she had met him he seemed a little awkward, crossing his arms over his chest. “So obviously Eesh is in hidin’ now, right? And I’ve got business to wrap up, so she’s gonna be...y’know, lonely.”

Becca raised an eyebrow. 

“Nah, don’t look at me like that--it ain’t that way,” He cursed. “You’ve gotta straighten your mind out B--I meant she’s gonna want a friend, y’know, someone to watch chick flicks with and cry at rom coms. I ain’t that guy, so I’m sorta hopin’ you will be.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, she blinked at him, shock overriding common sense; “You want me to babysit your girlfriend?”

“No!” He snapped, eyes narrowing. “Just crash at mine once in a while. It’s gonna be tough for her.”

It almost sounded as if he cared when he spoke like this, but she didn’t dare suggest that. She nodded, mulling the idea over. This wasn’t what she expected when he asked for a ‘favor’. 

“And does she know about this?”

“No, but she better be fuckin’ grateful,” He snapped, face darkening. “Embarrassin’.”

She pursed her lips. The look he shot made her want to laugh harder, digging her toe in the floor to stave it off. He was waiting for an answer. “Fuck it, I’ll do it,” She didn’t really have a choice. “But tell her before I show up, I don’t wanna look like a fuckin’ stalker.”

“Sure thing,” He nodded. Then that was that. She still sat there, watching him, which he seemed to pick up on. “You got a starin’ problem?”

She held both hands out in front of her, a sign of surrender as she pulled her chair out. Only when she had her back to him did she roll her eyes--

“I saw that.”

She ran a little quicker after that.


	6. Stacking the deck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while, life got in the way! I have quite a lot written up for Sr1, so I'm hoping I should be able to update often-ish (fingers crossed)
> 
> Just as the title says, the first Rollerz mission with a bit of Eesh thrown in. In my playthrough I always get through the Rollerz first before properly getting too far into the other gangs, so it only makes sense that this sort of follows that.

Becca had met Lin at the church--briefly. Where Lin had punched a guy square in the face and Becca felt her heart smash out of her chest.

She honestly half expected everyone in the saints to look half-assed, but to her great disappointment, they were all entirely beautiful and she felt like a fool. Lin was the latest addition to her long list of people that made her heart skip an extra beat when she saw them.

She smoothed down her tank top as she rounded the corner, watching as three Rollerz walked away, talking animatedly and making gestures that she knew Lin wouldn’t be happy with.

Sure enough, she was standing next to her car, looking as beautiful as she always did. Her lip was curled in indignation as she frowned at the men walking away from her.

“I swear to God, we’re not gonna be able to kill these assholes fast enough.”

Becca smiled, and the words fell out of her mouth easily. “Not enjoying yourself?” She asked, gesturing to the blots of blue in the distance. “They look fun enough.”

“I can’t wait to see how fun they look full of bullet holes,” She grunted, arms folding over her chest. “Anyway--I’m glad you’re here.”

Becca felt her eyes light up. She tried to temper that. “Oh?”

Whether Lin heard her tone or not, a slow smile spread across glossy lips as Becca watched them intently, so intently, she wasn’t even aware they were moving until she blinked back into the space;

“....The only thing I got is that a shipment of high performance cars is coming in today, it’s not much, I know, so we’re gonna make the best of it. Jack the truck carrying the cars before it’s delivery then take it to Samson. He’ll load the car up with a few surprises, then you finish the delivery yourself. Now get going, before someone sees us.”

Becca blinked at her, as she began to walk away, and found herself feeling like the lame rollerz who had been hollering at her a moment ago; “Hey!” She called after her, watching her stop. “Uh...If you’re free sometime, and...uh, undercover, I guess, d’you wanna grab a drink?”

Lin stopped. At first, she didn’t know how to read it, and then watched Lin’s lips grow into that small easy smile again. “Do you know how to look inconspicuous?”

“I can give it a shot,” She shrugged, smiling that she wasn’t instantly shot down. “Don’t know if you’ll catch me wearing the blue slacks though.”

Lin actually laughed, a short one, but a laugh all the same. “Yeah--I don’t think they’d bring out your eyes. You’re more of a purple girl.”

“You think?”

“I know,” Lin nodded, clucking her tongue. “I’ll go for a drink. You know the number.”

“Do I?” Becca asked, swallowing the nerves in her chest.

This was not how she was anticipating it to go. She honestly expected to be shot down the moment she brought it up, she was never stupid enough to think that Lin would actually entertain it.

Lin started to walk towards her, gesturing as Becca felt her heart about to explode out of her chest. She had started something here that she didn’t know she was going to finish, but as she fished her phone out of her jeans, maybe she wouldn’t have to.

“Don’t know if Troy’ll like these friendly drinks,” Lin mused, typing her number into Becca’s phone. “There.”

That took her attention. She blinked, watching Lin who still stared at the phone screen. “What did you just say?”

“What?”

Lin looked like she was talking about the weather, she even almost looked flippant. Becca still stared at her, and when she didn’t say anything, all tiptoeing around the issue flew out of the window. “About Troy--What did you say?”

“He just seems to have found a pet project in you,” She shrugged. “He’s never got directly involved with the newbies before.”

“Well...He kind of recruited me directly, I guess,” She rationalised. “The first time he met me he saved me, maybe he’s not got the same history with the other guys.”

“Maybe.”

That did not help. If anything, that made her feel even more confused. The whole concept of drinks now felt a lot less victorious than it did before.

“Right,” Becca said, awkwardly. “Well, I’ll text you.”

The whole atmosphere had changed as she cringed, knowing that Lin must have picked up on it.

“Yeah,” Lin nodded. “Good luck with the truck.”

She was annoyed at herself, as she watched her walk away. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole as a lump stuck in her throat, refusing to budge. Her phone vibrated as she glanced down to it, still catching the tail end of Lin’s trousers turn around the corner. It was another headache.

_Hey, it’s Aisha. Johnny gave me your number, he said you were coming to see me today?_

“Did he now?” Becca grumbled aloud, still not thrilled with the idea of being his girlfriend's babysitter. She had to have some empathy, the woman had no one except her sister, she supposed it would be lonely in the house all day.

_Sounds good. What time?_

Empathy was hard to muster, however. She was in the worst mood she could be in as she sighed through her nose, slipping the phone into her back pocket, and she hadn’t even jacked the truck yet.

-

The jacking had been simpler than she anticipated. So had the phone call she received after from Lin, with her playful voice back in her ear, Becca could almost hear her smile through the phone.

Even that was done. She was standing in front of a small block of apartments, just off the suburbs, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, trying to think of what to say to a woman she had met once in a car with a bomb strapped to their feet.

Before she lost her nerve, a bitten nail pressed against the buzzer. It barely had time to vibrate;

“Hello?”

“Hey,” She coughed out, suddenly feeling shy. “It’s me.”

“Hey, I’ll buzz you up.”

The door vibrated as she pushed it. She didn’t know why she expected the apartment to be a shithole, the lobby was practically sparkling in comparison to her own, as she let her hand trail over the polished wood handrail, nails skimming over the surface.

She felt out of place. More than she usually did. She was constantly faking it, everything, in an attempt to find her fit. This just made it worse. More than anything, she was perplexed to why being in this particular lobby was making those feelings rise to the surface, festering under her skin like an itch she wanted to scratch.

Aisha padded out into the lobby, dressed, even with her shoes on. She looked uncomfortable, it almost radiated off her in waves as Becca approached. She wore an easy smile that Becca assumed she shone at all the record executives.

“Hey,” Becca offered, willing a smile onto her face. “How’s things?”

“They’re good,” Aisha smiled warmly, but her lip twitched. “Come in.”

She followed her in, hearing the door click shut behind them, but in truth, Becca was barely paying attention. She was standing in the middle of a little suburbia, with white furniture and the smallest dashes of purple, marble worktops and glass tables, as she pulled at a thread in her hoodie.

“Want a drink?”

“Sure,” She blinked back into the room, watching swinging hips walk over to the coffee machine that shone as brightly as the counter. “Thanks.”

“You can sit, you know.”

Becca inspected the white couch and thought that she would give it rabies if she so much as leant on it. Her clothes were covered in oil from the truck as she gingerly perched on the edge of the couch, hands balled in her lap as if she were about to be lectured by someone's parent.

She watched her back as Aisha hummed a tune under her breath, swaying her hips absentmindedly in a small dance that made her appear more human than the pedestal Becca had been putting her on. It was reassuring for a moment, as Becca felt her lips pull into a smile.

“Here,” Aisha was walking back with two mugs, the easy smile still fixed in place as she handed it to Becca.

She too sat down, across from Becca. Her mug was held in her hand as she sat with a straight back, looking entirely awkward, as if she didn’t fit in her own apartment. Then came the silence.

It was almost unbearable as Becca tried to think of what to say, but the longer she left it, the longer it grew, until Aisha opened her mouth to speak, the same time that Becca did.

“Go on,” Becca visibly cringed. “You first.”

“I know Johnny asked you to come here,” Aisha said, the easy smile gone. “You didn’t have to. I know you probably don’t want to.”

Aisha’s voice dipped off at the end, as Becca stared at her, stunned. The smile had slipped off her face, and instead, held an empty gaze as she glanced down at the coffee sat on her lap and all Becca felt was guilt.

“I didn’t mean to--” Becca cursed quietly. “I do want to. He asked me to do it, yeah, but I agreed. I’m not forced here or anything.”

Aisha didn’t say anything for a moment, her lips pursed. “I don’t want you to pity me.”

“I don’t,” Becca remarked, frankly. “You’re still the same woman I saw screaming at Gat at the top of her lungs, it’s obvious you’re not some crying wallflower.”

Aisha’s lip twitched. Their first meeting had been chaotic at best. “He’s just a big baby under all that macho bullshit,” She snorted, her lips curling into a fond smile. “Anyone could do it.”

“I couldn’t.”

Aisha blinked at her, manicured nails stopping their rhythmic tapping on the cup. “...Are you scared of him?”

“No,” She lied, quickly. “Just...y’know, he has a reputation. I don’t even know if he likes me honestly.” She paused, mulling it over. “And I don’t even know why I care about it.”

“He likes you,” Aisha nodded sagely, her eyes a little brighter than before. “I think all the guys see a pet project in you. You’re like their adopted kid or somethin’.”

Becca cringed at the same words that Lin had told her mere hours before, but couldn’t help the relief she felt as her toes curled in her trainers. “You don’t have to say that.”

“It’s true,” Aisha smiled. “It’s good to see another girl in the saints. It’s a dick fest, everyone tripping up to try and prove how big they are.”

Becca caught Aisha’s lip curl in distaste as she blinked at her, trying to understand her point of view. “You got tired of it?”

“I thought I was better than them,” Aisha admitted, guilt clear on her face. “I know I’m not, but sometimes when I see them act like that…”

“It brings it back?”

“Kinda,” Aisha nodded. “The reason I signed up with Kingdom was ‘cause I rushed it. I thought I was better than them, more mature. Signed my name on the dotted line without reading any of it, saw it as my ticket out.” Her lips twisted. “I was just as stupid as I thought the guys were, stuck in a contract that made sittin’ in the church courtyard sound like a fuckin’ dream.”

Becca almost forgot that they had sat in silence for the first couple of minutes, with how easily they were talking. She also found herself looking at the woman in front of her as a person, not just a poster or an unattainable standard. She was real, and she wasn’t someone to flirt with just for the sake of it, she had the same conflicts as everyone else.

“Well I think you still did an amazing thing,” Becca replied, sipping her coffee. “Doesn’t matter that it went sour, you still made something out of yourself. Not bad for a girl from the row.”

Aisha’s lips pulled into an easy smile, watching her. “Well, it’s all blown up around me. But you really mean that?”

Becca hummed in response, watching as Aisha sipped her coffee again, a smile on her lips that didn’t seem to budge.

“I think Johnny’s actually done some good here,” Aisha smiled over her cup. “Sendin’ you over here. I think it might be good.”

It was Becca’s turn to smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”


	7. Scratch That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So a mini break from missions to focus on relationship building! Thought it might be strange to jump from mission to mission with her growing closer to people without seeing at least a little bit of the development.
> 
> I took a few liberties with inventing a room under scratch that, and I know people peg Troy as older in sr1 but eh I ran with twenty eight. 
> 
> Now I've got that all out of the way, enjoy x

When she first walked through the courtyard she took the looks and the people watching her as intimidation, it was only until a week later that she realised it was curiosity. 

The same guys that had kicked her in the chin in her canonisation were passing blunts to her as she walked by, quietly doing gestures that she thought she had not earned. She wasn’t going to complain. They were her family now, whether she felt comfortable about that or not.

The sun was sitting in the middle of the sky as she felt a bead of sweat roll down her back, irritated that despite it being early October, she was still baking under the heat. Everyone else in the courtyard was acting in kind--purple jackets were hung over walls, bandanas catching sweat that dripped from the foreheads of guys playing poker on downturned crates.

It was very much a small community, and she was relieved that she was starting to adjust into it. She had a fit, somewhere.

A pair of laced up sandals met her vision as she looked up, relieved to see the peroxide locks of Cara as she beamed at her. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

Becca let her smile go playful. “Blind date?”

“You wish,” Cara snorted, leaning down to pull her up her feet, stronger than she looked as Becca made a small yelp. “No, I’m showing you the saints grandad. Well, he’s like, forty. But that’s old.”

Cara continued talking as Becca tried to make sense of the conversation, glancing down to their conjoined hands. Cara almost reminded her of Quinn, in a strange way. She couldn’t even say they acted similar. Perhaps she saw her in everyone.

But Quinn was another memory of a city that Becca was slowly forgetting, and she could stay there. The sooner she forgot about all of it, the better she would be.

Cara pulled her over to an older man, entirely bald with patches of shaved hair trying to peek through. He was overweight, but tall, hunched forward as he oiled his handgun, lip pulled in concentration.

“Leon?” Cara asked, as he glanced up. “This is her.”

Leon looked up, painstakingly slowly, and the whole set up was so ridiculous that she snorted. “This isn’t ominous or anything.”

He watched her, and the longer he did, her lip twitched, the smile struggling to stay put on her face. It stretched for longer, until her smile dropped entirely, and as soon as it did, he barked out a laugh.

“Ha!” He exclaimed, as she jumped a mile. “Sorry, I’m just shitting you. Becca, right?”

She blinked, a relieved laugh bursting from her lips. “Yeah, good to meet you man.”

He extended a hand for her to shake, which she did, noting that her hand was probably clammy. Her arm felt like it was going to drop off when he released her, and she took that as a cue to sit across from him.

“Looks like you’re the new thing here,” He nodded, as she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. “You’ve been getting a lot of attention.”

“...And that’s not normal?”

“Nah, not really,” He replied, watching her with interest. “We were all thinking you’d have your head up your ass but you’re actually just…”

“...Yeah?”

“A kid,” He replied, but he didn’t seem to be insulting her. “You’re a normal kid.”

She didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved. “Thanks.”

“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” He nodded his head to her. “It’s good. You get shit done and don’t walk ‘round with your cock out.”

She wondered if this was going anywhere, but couldn’t deny that she felt a little proud hearing him say that. The way Cara had spoken about him implied that he was someone people listened to, and if he thought that, it bode well for her.

“It’s Mateo’s birthday today,” Leon continued. “We’re all having a sorta..get together at the dive. It’d be cool if you’d go.”

“Who’s Mateo?”

“Mateo Mendoza,” He explained, as if that cleared it up. “He’s one of our older ones. Good guy. It’s his thirtieth, so obviously we’re gonna rib him for bein’ so old.” He paused, watching her expression. “You don’t know where the dive is, do you?” 

She chuckled awkwardly, as she watched Leon’s lip twitch. “That obvious?”

“It’s under the scratch that in the Barrio. They’ll know to expect you, I told them what you look like,” He chuckled. “You kinda blend in with all the other girls ‘cept for that.” He leant over and tapped the mole on her chin, as she blinked at him. “And that pixie nose you got goin’ on.”

He had made her feel extremely self conscious as she rubbed her nose. Maybe he didn’t mean it, and from the way he was smiling at her she suspected he didn’t. 

“...You coming then?”

“Yeah,” She replied quickly. “Sounds good. What time?”

“Starts at nine.”

-

Any self respecting person knew that ‘starts at nine’ meant show up at ten. She had already had a beer to try and calm some of the nerves that had no right to be there in the first place. 

She didn’t know what the dress code was. She didn’t know who would be there, she didn’t even know where the Scratch That was, so she was going to have to pray that Cara did. She didn’t know a lot of things.

The top she wore was cropped, a halter that tied behind her neck, and more annoyingly, that her hair kept getting caught in. She smoothed down her jeans, always too long and traipsing around her ankles, but there was little she could do about that as her phone vibrated.

I’m outside.

She pulled aside the blinds to see Cara, sat in her car and drumming her nails on the wheel. Becca sidestepped her jacket hanging off the bedpost, turning to close her apartment door behind her as she typed a quick reply, jogging down the stairs to the entrance.

The doors whacked open as she stepped through them, the air stagnant and as hot as it was during the day. It clung to her like a second skin as she felt the back of her neck grow hot.

She heard the window being rolled down, followed by an extremely subtle wolf whistle as she tried to stop smiling, rolling her eyes at the other woman. She too, looked different, thick eyeliner swiped across blue watery eyes, her lips tinted red. 

“Says you,” Becca retorted as she got in the passenger's seat. “You look great.”

“Now you’re just flatterin’ me,” Cara beamed. “You got heels on?”

Becca glanced down to the glittery heels on her feet. “...Yeah, why?”

“You look taller,” Cara hummed, the engine starting to rumble under their feet. “It’s weird that you don’t look like a midget--y’know, more human sized.”

“I’m 5’1, not a fuckin’ dwarf.”

“Whatever.”

Becca rolled her eyes. “Are the parties always this ominous? Underground? There gonna be a secret password?”

“Nah,” Cara snorted. “Not like Mateo can afford bouncers. Just people know people, and they’ll know if they don’t know you. Get me?”

“That was a lot of ‘knows.’”

“Stop being a smartass,” Cara snorted. “And stop overthinking it. This’ll be fun.”

Cara was right, she knew that. She shuffled in the seat, releasing a deep breath and curling her toes in her heels. Perhaps she should have had another beer. It was too late for that, as Cara pulled underneath a flickering store sign.

“Alright,” Becca cleared her throat, swinging her legs out of the car before she could change her mind. “Lets go.”

She walked ahead and was well aware that she probably should have waited for Cara, but then she would have lost her nerve. All she could hear was her own heels clacking and the low vibrating thrum of music being played, but further away.

There was a door open with a single sterile lightbulb lighting the stairs. The music became louder as she headed down the stairs, her nails skimming off the handrail as her feet started to vibrate, and she hadn’t even been there for a second before a hand slapped her hard on the back.

“You came!”

Cramped was the best way to describe it. There was a shitty tiny disco ball in the middle of the room, reminding her of a family gathering rather than a party for gang bangers. Bodies were filled in the tight space, making the air stuffy--whoever Mateo was, he was popular.

“Hey,” She waved at Leon. 

He draped a casual arm over her shoulder, leading her towards a table that was filled with more alcohol than she had ever seen. There wasn’t an inch of table left as he handed her a glass, which she took silently, sipping it to find it was pure tequila.

“Jesus,” She winced. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Take it like a champ,” Leon nudged her, barely audible over the music. “I’ll take you to meet Mateo, he’s been askin’ about you.”

She wondered exactly what she had done to make everyone be interested in her. Since the time that she had joined people had come and gone in abundance and yet she had not seen them be observed with half as much interest as she had been. 

Leon steered her over to a taller man, muscular, with a shaved head, talking animatedly to two women. When she saw him in a better light, she caught the glint of his teeth, one adorned with a gold cap, and then, just as suddenly, his brown eyes landed on her.

“If it ain’t the person of the hour,” He smiled, but his eyes glinted a little. “Hey chica. Becca, right?”

She nodded. “Mateo?”

“That’s me.”

“Happy birthday,” She offered, suddenly feeling emboldened with the way he was looking at her. “Drink?”

He took her cup of tequila, and drank from it confidently--but immediately spat it back out into the cup, his nose wrinkling. She watched him with amusement as he lowered the cup, folding her arms over her chest. 

“You’re wrong for that,” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Here I thought you’d be tryin’ to butter us all up.”

He offered the cup back to her as she shook her head. “You think I want your backwash?”

“Nah,” He snorted. “I can do one better. Come on.”

She realised as she followed him she had lost Cara entirely, but she wasn’t exactly the most pressing thing on her mind. Walking past the small crowd, she spotted Johnny straight away, then Dex, and she had to blink when her eyes settled on Troy.

He was watching her so intently she should have had a hole in her head, his arms folded with a small glass between his fingers. She barely had time to even wave at him before she was pushed over to the small table again.

“Now, take your pick,” Mateo instructed, showing her the table. “I’ll even let you have some of the birthday boys shit.”

“Woah,” She gasped, a hand on her chest. “Damn, thanks.”

Despite their back and forth, she felt her eyes stray. Her ears were burning as she tried to make it subtle, looking up to see Troy still staring back. His eyes flicked to the dancefloor just as quickly, her heart thudding louder than any music.

She glanced over to Johnny talking what looked like absolute shit to Dex, as he nodded along and tried to pretend to be interested, and then she knew exactly what she was going to do.

“Well,” She picked a random cup of the table, canting it towards Mateo in her haste to leave. “Happy birthday man, have a good one.” She didn’t give him a chance to reply as she cut around the small crowd of people, making a beeline for Johnny and Dex.

Dex saw her before Johnny did, a casual smile making its way onto his face. She had learnt early on that Dex held his cards to his chest, and that was only from his introduction to her.

“Becca,” He smiled. “Nice to see you. How you doing?”

“Good,” She replied, honestly, as she saw Johnny turning his attention to her out of the corner of her eye. “You?”

“I’m good.”

“Damn, I didn’t think they’d let you in here, B,” Johnny snorted as she glanced at him, looking at him over the top of her glass. “You move quick.”

“What can I say?” She wiggled her fingers as he grinned at her. “I’m speedy.”

Johnny said something to her, but she had no idea what it was as she saw his mouth move, the music covering any of his words. 

“What?”

He repeated himself, but it was still fruitless. She pressed onto her tiptoes as he cleared her hair from her ear, and she wasn’t entirely sure when he grabbed her elbow, but she found herself holding his forearm to keep her upright.

“I said, thanks for seeing Eesh!” He said into her ear, his breath tickling her skin. “She’s good now she got someone to talk to.”

“No problem man!” She replied, or rather shouted. “I had a good time!”

She lowered herself back onto her toes after their shouting match, as his hand slipped off her elbow and her heels hit the floor again. She had no idea what had just happened, or even how she felt about the matter, but seeing Dex’s bemused expression indicated that it didn’t look particularly innocent.

She took a sip from her drink and instead decided to watch the party. Drunken revellers moved in time to the music as she felt a grin play across her face as she pressed her lips to the rim of the cup. She felt like she belonged. 

The smile only faltered when she flicked her eyes back across to Troy, who was still watching her. At this point, she had no idea what to do with it, so she bit the bullet, waving her free hand awkwardly at him.

He waved back, and the more she drank, the more it seemed a good idea to speak to him. She had seen him speak to one person since she had arrived, and reasoned, as her feet moved, that she was just doing him a favour.

She toed around the floor, looking at the ground rather than his eye as she skirted around the crowd, curling around them to lean against the wall that he was on, policing a small distance between them.

She said nothing for a moment, neither did he, as they both collectively watched the party over their drinks. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” She admitted, so quietly that she wasn’t sure that he would hear her.

“Why?”

Of course he did. She almost laughed at the irony of it. “Doesn’t really strike me as one of your digs.”

“Can I not cut loose sometime?” He asked her, looking down at her with a wry smile on his lips. “Gotta be the asshole all the time?”

“I don’t see you doing the worm on the floor,” She reasoned, her lip twitching. She watched the dancers, but was keenly aware of his eye on her. “Can’t be that loose.”

“I gotta keep my dignity.”

She snorted, taking a small sip from her drink again. She tried to make it obvious she wasn’t watching him out of the corner of her eye, but he wasn’t even trying to hide it as he finally looked back to the dancefloor. 

“Do you even know Mateo?” He asked her, as she glanced up at him. He was still watching the dancefloor.

“We’ve just got acquainted,” She said, watching his lip twitch downwards. “He seems nice.”

“Yeah,” He said, but it sounded strained. “He’s a good kid.”

She paused. “I’m sure he’s older than you,” Then a strange thought entered her head. “Unless you really look after your skin.”

He snorted, shaking his head as she felt her own lip twitch. “Yeah, but not by much.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty eight,” He replied, looking down at her now. “You?”

“Twenty one,” She said, but felt her lips purse as he smiled at her. “You act like you’re forty.”

“Gee, thanks,” Any smile he gave her went as he rolled his eyes, turning back to the dancefloor. “You really know how to boost my ego, you know.”

“We can’t all flatter you, hon,” She replied, knowing the nickname would have sent his eyebrows rising. She focused her gaze on a womans shoes so she didn’t have to look at him. “Some of us need to bring you back to earth.”

“And you’ve elected yourself?” He laughed. “Maybe all this is goin’ to your head.”

“Fuck you,” She retorted, but she was smiling. “I’m humble.”

He laughed properly then, as she saw his head resting on the wall. He looked better when he laughed, the frown fell off his face and all she could see were the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and his teeth, head thrown back.

“What?”

She had been caught out as she blinked. “Nothing.” She lied, turning back to the party. The alcohol was thrumming under her veins as she took another sip, swallowing thickly as he did the same out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you think Cara’s ever gonna realise he’s unavailable?” She asked him, pointing her cup to the scene in front of her as Troy followed her hand.

Of course, only she, Julius and Troy knew about Aisha’s death being entirely faked, but now Johnny had no excuse for when Cara approached him, which she did extremely often. It was a shame, Cara was a catch, she knew that, but going for Johnny was only going to end in tears.

Cara was talking to him, smiling, as he looked off to the party as if he couldn’t care less. Johnny glanced at her, and she saw his eyebrows pull together, a silent plea. “And that’s my cue,” She laughed, pushing off the wall to turn back to him. “See you later?”

His smile had gone, but he wasn’t frowning. He nodded once. “Sure.”

-

She didn’t know what time it was, but suddenly three drinks had turned to five, and five to ten. Her head was on a lap, and her legs were over someone's thighs, her limbs dangling off the end of the couch.

If she was worried about fitting in, she somehow figured she wouldn’t have to worry about that any longer, as she tried to get comfy on whosoever jeans she was lying on. A hand was slowly stroking her hair as she closed her eyes, her breathing deepening as the room spun behind her eyelids.

“You okay chica?”

So she was on Mateo’s lap then. But who were her legs splayed across? She figured she could work that out later as she gave a grunt in response to Mateo’s question. 

“We’re headin’ home, you want me to call you a taxi?”

The thought of moving was extremely unpleasant as she wrinkled her nose. She heard footsteps stop next to her head, but still kept her eyes shut.

“I can take her.”

Her eyes snapped open, as Troy spun lazily around in her vision. She blinked at him as she saw hand extend to her, and clumsily latched onto it as he pulled her up. 

“Jesus,” she grunted, sitting upright on Mateos lap as she tried to sober up. “I feel like shit.”

“You sure man?” Mateo asked. “None of us are exactly sober.”

“I’m better than she is,” she heard him reply, his voice dry as she saw his hand in front of her again.

She had half a mind to whack his hand away, but in truth she probably wouldn’t be able to get up without it. She latched onto his fingers as he lightly pulled her up, blinking blearily at him.

“I’m fine,” she replied, dropping his hand. “I can walk home.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

She would have flushed with embarrassment if she wasn’t so drunk. Instead she rolled her eyes at him, approaching the steps with nausea swirling around her stomach. This wasn’t fun drunk, she had bypassed that hours ago as she tried to stagger up the stairs. 

His hand was warm on her back as she tried to ignore his presence behind her, focusing on getting up the stairs. If she was sober she would have been enjoying herself a lot more than this. 

The first indicator she had fucked up was the sun streaming in her eyes as they walked out of Scratch that. The second was the fact that he had to grab her arm as her ankle twisted in the heels. 

“Jesus,” she grunted. “This is so fucking embarrassing.”

“I’ve seen worse,” he replied, but his voice sounded lighter than she expected. “You want my arm?”

“You’re such a gentleman.”

The words that were supposed to be mocking were practically cooed at him as he blinked at her. She grabbed at his arm before he could ask about it, and was relieved to feel him link up with her. 

“Please don’t mention this tomorrow.”

He snorted. “You’ve got another thing comin’ if you think I’m not using this against you.”

She didn’t reply, mainly because the idea of seeing him after this filled her with drunken dread. 

“Merda,” She grunted, her heel making her ankle twist as her fingers dug into his arm. “Sorry.”

Troy stopped, still holding her arm as he glanced down at her. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“You uh…” Troy carried on walking as she concentrated on following. “Speak spanish or something?”

Becca let out a weary drunk laugh. For someone that she regarded as extremely intelligent he was letting himself fall a little short of the pedestal she often placed him on.

“Italian,” She slurred in reply. “Second gen.”

“Really?” 

“Nah, I’m lying to you.”

She practically heard him roll his eyes, but paid it no mind as his Zircon came into view. Her fingernails were probably digging into his skin but he didn't make a comment until he lowered her gently into the passenger's seat, joining her in the drivers side.

“Didn’t realise you were italian,” He said, turning the key with some difficulty. She almost forgot that he was drunk too with the amount of chastising he was doing. “You were born there?”

“No, second gen as in my mom was,” She replied, looking at him blearily as he turned the key. “She was born in Potenza.”

“Ah,” He nodded, as the car rumbled to life. “Makes sense.”

“What about yours?”

He drove the car so slowly it almost crawled, but she didn’t mind. She would rather have him be overly cautious and get her home in one piece than speed into a wall. “My mom was born here,” He snickered. “Think she’d rather have picket fences and daisies, but it is what it is. Yours?”

She blinked at him, as he didn’t even seem to realise his mistake. He had given her the impression that he was barely drunk at all, but seeing his lips parted as he tried to concentrate made her realise he wasn’t far off her level. “You uh..” She snickered. “I just told you that.”

“Oh,” He blinked. “Yeah.” He drove aimlessly for a couple of minutes as she felt her eyes grow heavy, blinking blearily at streets she semi-recognised as they drove past, then her shoulder was jostled lightly, then her name, murmured quieter. “...Becca?”

She grunted out what she hoped sounded like a reply as her eyes closed.

“Where do you live?”

She hadn’t even told him. Her eyes cracked open as she glanced at him, and he at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed as she felt her lips pull into a smile. She wondered how long he had driven around hoping for a flash of inspiration, but in truth she had never told him, never really had a reason to.

“Near the station in the row,” She yawned behind her hand as the sun flickered through her semi open eyelids. “I’ll direct you.”

What occurred were half assed directions and many missed turns as he finally pulled up outside her block of apartments, yawning audibly as he canned the engine.

“Alright,” She grunted, nearly asleep. “Thanks, see you tomorrow.”

“Today,” He reminded her. “Probably in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“Anytime.”


End file.
